For some time did it seem as if this was to be their fate,—as if, literally, they were to be overwhelmed. The breeze which had so opportunely carried the Catamaran beyond the reach of the pursuing raft, soon freshened into a gale; and threatened to continue increasing to that still more dreaded condition of the ocean atmosphere,—a storm.
The rafts were no longer in sight of each other. Scarce five minutes had elapsed, after being grappled by Le Gros, when the breeze had caught hold of the Catamaran; and, from her superior sailing qualities, she had soon become separated from the more clumsy embarkation of the enemy.
In another hour, the Catamaran, under good steering, had swept several miles to westward; while the raft, no longer propelled by oars, and its rudder but ill-directed, had gone drifting about: as if they who occupied it were making only a despairing effort to keep it before the wind.
Despite the rising gale and the increasing roughness of the water, there were no despairing people upon the Catamaran. Supported by his faith in providential protection, Ben Brace acted as if there was no danger; and encouraged his companions to do the same.
Every precaution was adopted to provide against accidents. As soon as they saw that the pursuer was left behind,—and they were no longer in any peril from that quarter,—the sail was lowered upon the mast, as there was too great a breadth of it for the constantly freshening breeze. It was not taken in altogether, but only “shortened,”—reefed in a rude fashion,—so as to expose only half its surface to the wind; and this proved just sufficient to keep the Catamaran “trim” and steady upon her course.
It would not be correct to say that her captain and crew felt no fears for her safety. On the contrary, they experienced the apprehensions natural to such a situation; and for this reason did they take every precaution against the danger that threatened. The Coromantee might have given way to a feeling of fatalism,—peculiar to his country and class,—but there was no danger of Ben Brace doing so. Notwithstanding his faith about being protected by Providence, the sailor also believed, that self-action is required on the part of those who stand in need of such protection; and that nothing should be left undone to deserve it.
The situation was altogether new to them. It was the first thing in the shape of a storm, or even a gale, they had encountered since the construction of their curious craft. Ever since the burning of the Pandora, they had been highly favoured in this respect. They had been navigating their various embarkations through a “summer sea,” in the midst of the tropical ocean,—where ofttimes whole weeks elapse without either winds or waves occurring to disturb its tranquillity,—a sea, in short, where the “calm” is more dreaded than the “storm.” Up to this time they had not experienced any violent commotion of the atmosphere,—nothing stronger than what is termed a “fresh breeze,” and in that the Catamaran had proved herself an accomplished sailer.
It was now to be seen how she would behave under a gale that might end in a storm,—perhaps a terrific tempest.
It would be untrue to say that her crew looked forward to the event without fear. They did not. As said, they suffered considerable apprehension; and would have felt it more keenly, but for the cheering influence of that faith with which her captain was sustained, and which he endeavoured to impart to his companions.
Leaning upon this, they looked with less dread upon the sky lowering above and the storm gathering around them.